More Pee, Please...

SPECIAL NEWS BULLETIN!
Dateline: March 30, 2004. Richardson, Texas. Ethan Tinsley urinated in the big boy potty prior to his bath tonight! Mommy and Daddy were much pleased. Fast forward to the morning of March 31, and Ethan again, went Number 1 in the big boy potty! TWO TIMES. Incredible. He even did it standing up (which Dr. Morchower advised against) and it appears that his aim is better than mine (cue laugh track.)

We've thought he has been ready for some entry level potty training for some time. Cart ponied up and got him the big boy potty a week or so ago. We've been using it mainly as a stool thus far. Monday Monday bath duty, I put E in the tub and he promptly urinated in the water. This was no accident people. So, last night, I thought, hmmm, perhaps I should see if he wants to pee in the potty before getting into the tub....and of course, as you've read, he chose peeing in the big potty over the bathtub which is a good thing (otherwise I should just bathe him in the toilet, and save on my water bill.) The funny thing, after he peed (both times) he wanted to be able to do it more - and he kept hopping around - straining to urinate - saying, "More pee, please."

Other Team Tinsley news...Posted Team Tinsley March 2004 Pictures on Shutterfly last week. Perchance a BLOG visitor missed that email, go to the link and you can check them out, real hard.

Until I BLOG again.

The Great Big Book Of Everything

Becoming a parent is world shattering - heard to explain all the things that change, good, bad, and in between. Most of the time you are so busy with the day to dayness of it all that you don't even consider the changes. There are times though, when something will happen, a thought, an action, an event that hits the pause button, and you stop and think - wow - how did I get here?

I had one of those moments today at 6:30am. I was drinking coffee and watching Stanley. Cue the laugh track - BY MYSELF. Yes, Boy #1 was still night night, Boy #2 too, as was my Lovely Bride...and I was up, and watching Playhouse Disney by myself, and by choice. Not that it is such a bad thing, as I learned how to tell the difference between an alligator and a crocodile on Stanley.

You Might Be A Second Child If...

This past Monday Monday in the AM at Casa Tinsley (that be yesterday)...things were not going smoothly. We had arrived home later than expected from our Houston Town Trip, so we were all a bit tired, and having a hard time getting into the week. A list of things that happened before 7:30am.

+ Dog Dog had a massive puke (I'm talking an entire roll of Brawny, the quicker picker upper.) + Ethan shit on the sofa (thankfully not enough to warrant another poop themed blog.) + Wyatt urinated so much that his diaper exploded and he peed all over himself and his crib.

I was trying to get ready for work, Ethan wanted to 'color', Wyatt was sleeping (in the urine,) and Carter was trying to keep it all together. Directing the traffic of our life. As we passed each other in the hall, or maybe it was in Wyatt's room when I was saying bye to him before going to work...Carter looked at me, and asked: "Do you think I should wake him (him being Wyatt) to change his diaper, clothes, and sheets?"

Remember that goofy comedian Jeff Foxworthy? Famous for the: You Might Be A Redneck if...??? When Carter asked me if we should wake up Wyatt I thought of Jeff Foxworthy. Strange thought. No. Synchronous actually. Jung would be so proud, because that very weekend we had discussed the 2nd child deal in Houston Town. How they get all the hand me downs, you aren't as uptight and or nervous with them...not as much graft (read: gifts) to them as the first born, etc. On one hand it is cool, because you (or at least we) are so much more cool with them. You can enjoy it in a more laid back, relaxed way. But on the flip side...we'll let me tie this together...back to my Jeff Foxworthy point...

You might be a second child if your parents don't immediately wake you up to get you out of a pool of your own urine. (Insert laugh track.)

Until I BLOG again...

Just help me get to houston town - There are people there who care a little about me - And they won’t let the poor boy down...

We did the first Team Tinsley road trip since Wyatt joined the team. Went to see Granny and Pops in Houston Town. The ride down was pretty uneventful and we had a nice visit. The Boys both handled routine interuptus well. Houston weather must have got the memo that Saturday was the First day of Spring, because the weather was stunning. We seized the day and headed to Old MacDonald's Farm. The Farm is this combination petting zoo, playland, pool, kind of joint on 1960 (the road, not the year.) Boy #1 dug it the most. A trifecta of fun for him. He got to see all kinds of petting zoo animals, ride a train, and play on a giant heap of sand with trucks. Boy #2 did the normal, sleep through the entire outing thing. We all had a grand time. The 'oh shit' moment came when Boy #1 bumrushed some ducks and he fell into a overflow area of the pond. We're talking some swampy looking water (probably 12 to 15 inches deep) and a full face plant into said swamp. It was actually kind of funny - in the laughing with you, not at you vein. Boy #1 is pretty tough and bounced back from the mishap (which was a good thing since it happened within the first 10 minutes of us being there and he was drenched) The rest of the weekend was spent hanging out with Granny and Pops with an occassional ride in their truck (what Boy #1 calls their Golf Cart - Granny and Pops live on a Golf Course) to feed the ducks. Fast forward to Sunday and it was time to head North. The ride home was a beating. We left Houston at 12:30 and rolled into Casa Tinsley at a little past 7pm. Why? Because 45 goes to one lane of traffic 10 miles South of Corsicana and traffic was literally backed up for 5 miles...not just backed up...we're talking grid lock. We sat on 45 not moving for one to three minutes, only to roll a few feet and stop again. We sat there for 2 hours. It was horrible. The only positive was = get this = I didn't lose my shit! Go Me. I kept it together. A personal victory for sure. It still sucked though - and we felt bad for Wyatt who was NOT happy strapped into a carseat and hungry. Ethan has his moments ( I should have recorded their backseat Everly Brother-esque crying harmony wail thing) but was surprising good though the ordeal. That was the only blemish on what was a very nice weekend in Houston...and our FIRST long haul trip with all four us. Go Team Tinsley!

Until I blog again...

My Turn...

My Lovely Bride had Bunco last night. I had Boy x2 / Daddy x1 = always makes for an interesting evening for yours truly. Last night was a bit tense at times. Boy #2 was being...the "C" word. Boy #1 wanted my undivided attention. I won't bore with those trials. The funny thing was Boy #1 asking about his Mom; Where's Mommy? Generally when his Mom does Bunco (code name: Drunco) and or Book Club (code name: Booze Club) Ethan doesn't jones for his Mommy when she is trying to get out the door. When she splits she's lucky to get a wave. After 30 minutes or so it dawns on him that Mom isn't around...and then he starts asking about her, missing her. "Where's Mommy?" I always tell him..."Mommy went to Bunco...remember?" So - we did this little Play last night:

Scene: Team Tinsley den/family room. Dad is sitting on the Sofa trying to settle the youngest son down, while Boy #1 plays with his trucks on the coffee table in front of Dad and little Brother.

Boy 1: Where's Mommy.
Dad: Mommy went to Bunco.
Boy 1: Bunco?
Dad: Bunco.
Boy 2: CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY...
Boy 1: Mommy...Where's Mommy?
Dad: Bunco.
Boy 2: CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY...
Boy 1: Where's Mommy?
Dad: Bunco.
Boy 2: CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY...
Boy 1: Me go Bunco.
Dad: Bunco is for girls...Mommy is with her girlfriends.
Boy 1. Me go Bunco.
Boy 2: CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY...
Boy 1: Bunco. My turn.
Boy 2: CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY...
Boy 1: My turn. My turn Please. Please. My turn.
Boy 2: CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY CRY...
Boy 1: Bunco. My turn. My turn Please. Please. My turn.

At this point I go to the liquor cabinent and drink half a bottle of gin...

Kidding. Kidding. Actually, another sign that I am in fact old - yesterday, St. Pat's day - I didn't drink a drop of my beloved Beer. I was stone cold sober for the above.

Until I blog again....

Holy Crap: Once, Twice, Three Times A Turd.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury poop, not to praise it...dang dog done. Mrs. James (My 11th Grade English Lit teacher at Chuck Page High School) would be so proud of me using a line from Shakespeare in my Team Tinsley Blog.

You don't care about Mrs. James though - you want to know why I'm using the Julius Ceasar reference? Simple. It was the Ides of March...and fortuna's wheel was spinning my way yet again in regard to fecal matter. Pull up a chair. Dig this.

I, recumbent on the cold bathrooom floor post rub a dub dubbing (read: washing) Boy #1. He was busy doing the post rub a dub dub play thing...pouring bath water from cup to cup, taking the occasional drink, as well as getting it on the bathroom floor. From my vantage point, I could only see the Boy's upper torso and head. He was having fun. I was zoning out. Weary. Long Day at Work+Seasonal Allergy Discomfort=Tired Daddy. I was about to muster the strength to hop up and start the process of extracting the Boy out of his Bathtime fun - when he shocked me back into the now with his Mr. Clean mantra- 'clean up - clean up - clean up - clean up' - my first thought - HOLY SHIT - sadly, I was correct.

Remember the great movie, Caddyshack? Alas, this was no Babyruth. It was an actual turd - or turds - floating in the bath with Boy #1 who was quite distressed. He was still doing the 'clean up clean up clean up clean up clean up' thing, I guess hoping the words would have magic power and make the poop floating in the tub go away. Unfortunately, life isn't like it is on TV on Bewitched. The shit had already hit the fan (if you'll excuse the pun.)

SO - I snag Boy #1 up and out of the water only to discover that he had crap all over his left leg. I quickly shuffle him to my left arm so I can one arm football hold him while I grab the kiddy soap w/ my right hand...of course, I'm a complete uncoordinated dork spaz and I can't operate the hand pump one handed. Meanwhile...clean up clean up clean up clean up clean up is getting more whiney by the second. Not to mention the flood we're creating all over the bathroom floor.

So, I grab a scoop of water and splash off the crap the best I can and then bolt for the other bathroom in our room (our being me and Cart.) Clean up clean up clean up - has now turned to crying and wailing and requests to go to the front room. "Daddy, front room please." Carter would love us coming into the front room dripping water, covered in shit...so I have to shitcan (pun intended) the Boy's Plan and go with my own...which is putting the Boy through a Silkwood-esque (damn, I'm citing movies left and right in this here entry) shower to try and get him washed of fecal matter. I'm successful, and after some comforting I take him to get suited up for night night time and deposit him on Sofa City with his Mom and Baby Brother. They had wisely sat out the drama in the ass-end (pun intended) of the house.

Now where's my Hazmat Suit? Oh yeah, I don't have one!!!

Deep breathe for yours truly and off to clean up the mess that we made from the mess. Water on the floor, fecal matter in the bathtub. Etc. Fast forward thirty minutes, a bottle of bleach, and a costume change for yours truly and I deposited my self on the sofa with the family, with a shitty (literally) day in the rearview.

Three poop stories (two involving me) in less than a week. Light a candle, say a prayer for me people. No more poop for a few days. A boy named Stu doesn't want or need a doodie trifecta.

Until I BLOG again - Peace.

Some Recent Pictures...

Holy Crap: The Sequel.

Sunday morning coming down, and Boy #2, Wyatt hadn't pooped since Thursday night. The Boy's Mother was quite troubled by this fact - worried enough that I whipped out the User Guide and boned up on constipation. Fast forward an hour and Boy #1 is jonesing for some Micky D - so his Mom loads him up and off the go to McDonalds. I stay home with Quiet Wyatt who is asleep at this point. Boy #2 soon wakes up for some food, so I make a bottle of formula for him, get him on my lap (I put him on my legs so I have his head in my left hand and the bottle in my right -he is looking straight up at me - most of his body resting on my legs in my lap) and start feeding. He's all smiles, eating, cooing, eating, smiling, and then - goes beet red. BAM!!!! Explosive bowel movement. Two days worth of fecal matter come shooting into the diaper...Houston we have a problem! The diaper can't hold it...so up and out the back it goes. Getting all over him (his back) and soaking thru his clothes into my clothes. What am I going to do at this point? Nothing. I've already been shit on...so I try and burp him before I go back and change his diaper. So, up I go to burp him...pat pat pat on the back. A nice burp followed by puke. Yes, now I have crap and puke on me. I wipe his mouth dry with my shirt (hey, its already got crap and puke on it) and off we go to his room to change his diaper and clothes. 100 wet wipes later, I've got him out of this clothes and clean. While putting the new diaper on him, I get a little to forceful and rip the left tab, ruining it. I do this a lot for some reason. So, I go to throw it away and as I turn back - the Boy has turned into a fountain. Pissing straight up - on himself and his changing table thing. I do a quick ninja daddy move and cover up the stream in the ruined diaper. 50 wet wipes later he's in a fresh diaper. Carter is back now, and she dresses him. You think my job is done. Wrong. Now I get to go into the kitchen and wash out the clothes that has all the crap on it. As I'm doing this chore, I'm thinking of Lionel Ritchie's Easy...and how he must of not had young kids when he wrote that song. Because this 'Sunday Morning' ain't particularly easy at Casa Tinsley.

About A Boy

Last night at Casa Tinsley we watched Home Alone. You never know what movie (that isn't animated) that Boy #1 will like. Example. He likes to Four Weddings and a Funeral? Strange thing for a two year old to like. The funny thing about Home Alone was that he didn't like any of the parts that didn't have Macaulay Culkin. Plot development be damned. He wanted, as he put it, 'the boy.' Cut to the family in France watching It's a Wonderful Life on TV - Ethan looks at me and says: Boy Please. The mind of a two year old. He also enjoyed the snow in the movie and during a few of those scenes, did the "more snow please" that I wrote about a few weeks back.

Daddy note: Its 5:30am. I've been up for thirty minutes. This is the only time I can get up and do banking and pay bills and all that fun household crap one needs to do. Boy #1 is moaning in his crib. I better get back to the bills or I'm not going to get them done! Boy #1 will be up by Teletubbies time (that's 6:30am people) if not sooner.

Over and out.

Holy Crap: A Story.

Boy #1 poo story relayed by Carter. Boy #1 is getting at that age where its time to start thinking about potty training. He mimics me when I urinate. Reads kiddy books that are basically potty training propaganda, etc. Anyway - the story. Carter leaves E in the Main Bathroom to go into our Bathroom to do her hair. She's gone a few minutes when she hears Wyatt (Boy #2) crying in his room. She goes to check on Wyatt and as she is walking by the main bathroom she hears Boy #1 going 'clean up, clean up, clean up, clean up' which is his mantra when he is cleaning something up...pretty straight forward. So, Cart takes the detour to see what needs cleaning. Poop. Boy #1 armed with a wash cloth is smearing his fecal matter on this kiddie chair that is in the main bathroom, trying to get it clean. He's also got all down his legs, and on the floor and has of course stepped all in it. Fun. Not sure if he took his diaper off and tried to crap on the chair, and or if his diaper came askew and he just shit out the side? No light stoumach aloud in Mommyville, Cart swoops in and cleans up the boy and the mess. The best part of the story for me is this: When she asked Ethan if he wanted a bath to get clean. He said. No. He was fine with a quasi bath with wet wipes. What did people ever do before wet wipes? Blog Bye Bam.

Wyatt 2 Month Check-Up Stats.
13 lbs. 5 ozs. weight
23 7/8" length
15.5" head
Big Boy! 95 percentile!!!!

Aside from a shitty circumcision (collective finger to Dr. Hagood) he is doing great. We're going to have to decide what we're going to do about the circumcision at some point. Dr. Morchower says that the bigger (and as a Man, let me say, we hope it gets BIG) his penis gets, the better it will look. Right now it looks like a pig in the blanket. Lovely BLOG talk. I should post a picture of it.

Other 2 month observations. Could pass for Ethan at the same age, however, their personalities are very different. Wyatt is much more animated than Ethan was at the same age. Smiles a lot. Does the cute Baby Coo thing a bunch. Really gets going when he is in his Bouncy Chair and or Swing. Other things. LOUD. Kid can scream his head off when he is ready to eat and he goes from 0-60! Pretty wild.

Introducing (left to right of course): Boy. Boy. Old Man. Farmer. Man. Boy #1 digs Boy, Boy, and Man. Asks for them by name. Often carries them around in a Green Bucket that he uses for his favorites. They came with the Train that he received compliments of Saint Nick on X-Mas.

It can get a tad bit confusing when it comes to the Boy(s) since there are two of them. They look quite different, hard to miss the Boy with the fruity tam o' shanter hat...but when they are squirreled away under the sofa, or in some toy bucket, and the Boy (read: My Boy - #1) is screaming for Boy...it can get tense. Boy #1 doesn't really like Old Man that much which is interesting. Agism I guess? Farmer is mixed in here, more a spare than anything else. Setting this little dudes up is how I spent a recent Saturday. Playing with them...because as Boy #1 says: Daddy's Turn. Daddy's Turn Please (If I'm slow to act.) Below is a recent pick of Ethan wearing his new Fire Chief hat. His Aunt Betty sent a box of goodies. He went apeshit with the popcorn in the box. Daddy mistake...don't let your kids play w/ this popcorn. It took me, and I'm not embellishing for this good blog, 20 minutes to sweep up all the popcorn that was strewn across our bedroom and on our bed. He had a great time, yes. But, man, what a beating...Cleaning that crap up after he was done.